The man I want to be vs the man I am

Wrestling with these thoughts
Pacing up and down these four walls
Trying to contort myself
Into feelings I don’t have
Hoping to Box myself into the calm
Contorting myself into someone
I could never be
Wishing I could just
Pull myself up by the bootstraps
Twiddle and twirl my moustache
And be the man I keep thinking I ought t be
An epitome of man and calm
But with assertiveness as my next charm
Perhaps if I part my receding hair to one side
And wear a pair of matching socks
Suit and maybe a tie
To strangle the feelings in a noose
I’ll become the man I envisioned
Instead of the patchwork of a man
Barley complete and far from calm.

Hate me, so

Feelings are so…
That’s what haunts me so
It’s almost obligatory
To feel anger along with sympathy
Going round in circles in my mind
Till I can’t decide who is wrong or right
And it pains me to the ends of this earth
It sounds dramatic
But I feel it in my chest
It fucking HURTS!

And with me
It’s day in and day out
Just constant torment
And then I just want to scream and shout
Try to pacify my mind
Play guitar, watch a film
Tell myself just to focus on my life
But then I can’t let go
And I hate me, so

Day three I vow to make self-improvements
By day five, I slipped back or I never even made any movements
I can never remember
I just know I still hate me, so
Day six, I say, “Try again.”
And off I go, along this crazy train
Pacing along the tracks
Thinking “Did I move forwards, or did I go back?”
I can never remember.
I just know I still fucking hate me, so.

I hate myself

I disturb me. I’m tired of life and death, I’m tired of me. I’m tired of other people and their baggage, their emotions, their problems, their excuses. I’m tired of what I go through not being worthy of the pain I feel. It makes me feel pathetic, I hate when I see someone with genuine suffering and all I can think is “I have all this pain inside, and my reasons aren’t worthy of the pain I feel. My pain is not worthy yet I feel it because I’m pathetic” I feel like a clown with those endless handkerchiefs, I have endless pain. A deep harrowing hole that can’t be emptied, that can’t be fulfilled. It can’t be either because it’s nothing and it’s everything.

What I really want to do is, cut myself off from the world, allow myself to mourn life and take a painless exit.